Another Regular Night
by Anaya Doitici Orewid
Summary: Crack!fic. LoM-UK. When the Test Card Girl, once again, shows up into Sam Tyler's bedroom, things don't go as they usually do. T for mild swearing, to be on the safe side.


Crack, crackitty, crack crack **crack**. Really. Based on an extremely unserious mock-roleplay on messenger with a dear friend of mine. She was the Test Card Girl, and I was dear sweet Sammy. The dialogue is left virtually intact from the original log and is occasionally expanded on or altered slightly. Made the RP into this short little ficlet out of pure 3-am-boredom, really. Enjoy.

We decided this was set somewhere randomly between series 1 and 2, it doesn't contain much spoilers of either - and it, ofcourse, makes little sense in general.

I'll spare you the disclaimer because it's not like you don't already _know_.

* * *

She appeared, once again, out of nowhere, instantly causing him to become wide awake. He shot up in his bed, staring at her. He received a sweet, impossibly innocent looking smile from her in return. He managed to crawl to the edge of the bed, not taking his eyes off her for one second.

"Y-You..!" he spoke, pointing at her in disbelief.

Smiling, she replied in her young voice, "How are you, Sam? Enjoying it here?"

"N-not really, no…" he got out of his bed completely, moving further away from her. "What do you keep doing here?" he asked frantically, "as if I don't have enough problems without you!"

"Do you not like me with my clown?" she asked, holding it up for him to see (_and mentally disturbing the author. Again.)_

"No! I don't!" he said, now backed up against the wall – nowhere to go. "Go back to the telly or wherever it is you came from!" Sam told her in a nagging voice. The girl took a small step closer to him, still holding the clown, the television behind her showing only the now vacated test card.

"I'm only trying to help."

"I just want to go home…" he slowly slid down the wall, eventually landing on the floor, hugging his knees.

"You want me here, remember, Sam?"

"Uh, not really, no."

"Why would you want to go home? In the room that's so warm? You like it here."

"But..." he tried, "...my mum and Maya... I'm sure they're waiting for me, I was a DCI..."

The girls' expression changed abruptly, putting her empty hand to her side she sighed positively annoyed.

"God you _whine _a lot."

A look of confusion spread across his face. "...Well, you're scary a lot. How do you even get OUT of that thing? Am I really _that_ fucked up?"

She glared at him, crossing her arms, but still firmly holding the clown doll. "How about 'THANK YOU'?"

This simply brought more confusion upon him. "FOR WHAT? Basically giving me heart attacks every other night?!"

"YOU COULD'VE BEEN DEAD!" she pointed out, "YOU'RE NOT! YOU'RE IN A WONDERFUL PLACE!" she spread her arms wide.

He stood up now, crossing his arms in irritation. "...IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A LOT MORE WONDERFUL WITHOUT SOME SCARY LITTLE KID APPEARING IN MY BEDROOM FOR NO APPARANT REASON QUITE FREQUENTLY... also back in 2006 my superiors never hit me..." he added, staring at the floor.

She sighed again, pinching her nose. "You keep talking, but all I hear is _bla bla bla_," she motioned it with her hand, "_I'm a whiney git_. Me and my clown doll are going to sit in the corner until you apologize."

He stared at her blankly as she made her way over to the corner, eventually sitting down with the clown, letting her remark sink in.

"Wait!" he began, undignified, "I'm not going to apologize to _you_! _I'm _stuck in bloody 1973!"

"YOU WERE MEAN TO US!"

"Give me a break! YOU'RE MEAN TO ME, TOO!"

"WHAT ABOUT US? I'M STUCK IN SOMEONE ELSES BRAIN! I'M ACTUALLY 43, YA KNOW. I CAN'T EXACTLY AGE LIKE THIS!"

Sam looked at her like he was just been shown the moon is genuinely made of cheese. "I uh..." he mumbled, scratching his neck, "that's.. weird. I... need a drink." He walked past her, to the small kitchen in his apartment.

"Yeah, that's enough complaining." She continued from the main room, "Get me one while you're at it, God knows I need it." She got out of the corner and made herself comfortable in one of the chairs next to his little table.

Just before he poured her a glass of whiskey he stopped, "Hold on – you're a kid! Or... well... you look like one. Uhh... your body... oh sod it." He filled up two glasses and went back to the main room, setting one in front of her.

"I'm older than you! Speaking of which, if you were 10 years older... yum yum yum."

A little taken aback, he sat down next to her anyway, a little unsure. "Now that's just disturbing..."

She finished her drink in a fast gulp and winked at him.

"I'm... a bit frightened." He said, staring at his own drink, averting his eyes away from her. "I mean, even more so..."

"What else is new."

"NOTHING! I'M FROM THE BLOODY FUTURE! EVERYTHING IS OLD! I WANT MY MOBILE!" he chugged down his drink and refilled it, "I MISS MY DARLING MOBILE! AND, YOU KNOW, MAYA!"

She raised an eyebrow and reached behind her, grabbing a little gift wrapped box out of nothingness and handed it to him, look sincere.

"Here, just the mobile, though."

He stared at her in disbelief again.

"Come on, open it."

Hesitatingly, he slowly pulled the brightly coloured paper from the box. Swallowing nervously, he pulled the lid off it, revealing a framed picture of the Test Card Girl staring back at him. The girl in the picture suddenly moved and loudly yelled 'BOO', causing him to drop it on the floor, the glass breaking.

"AAHH! WHAT'D YOU HAVE TO DO THAT FOR?"

Utilizing her sweet-little-girl-looks, she looked up at him – puppy dog eyes – and her lip quivered. Taking a look at her, he sighed, not being able to resist.

"Aw, man. Refill?" he offered, somewhat apologetic.

"Yes, please."

Grabbing the whiskey bottle again, he poured a bit of the liquid into both the glasses.

"That's not very nice you know, scaring me like that. I mean.. not even GENE - y'know, the bloke who always comes bursting in my door too early in the morning - would do that to me."

"You're secretly in love with him, aren't you?" she asked bluntly.

Struggling not to choke on his sip of whiskey he muttered, "No, I love… Annie." He quickly threw back the rest of the drink. "Yup, Annie all the way. Nothing but Annie. Just Annie. Sweet Annie Cartwright. Yep."

"Whatever," she went on unconvinced, "I heard you two last night. Unless she's changed her name to 'GE-...ER- ANNIE', I think you've got a problem."

"OFCOURSE I'VE GOT A BLOODY PROBLEM—" he slammed his fist on the table, the Test Card Girl mumbling 'you'll wake up the neighbors' under her breath. "—I'M IN NINETEENSEVENTY-BLOODY-THREE! …Wait, what? You spy on me?" he asked, in horror.

She finished her glass. "What?" she asked, faking innocence again.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at her.

"IT GETS BORING IN YOUR HEAD, OKAY?"

"Thanks…" he mumbled, somewhat disappointed, subsequently grabbing the bottle off the table and holding it close. "Y'know, regularly, I'd ask him to stomp on all your toys but he might… break my TV… or have me hospitalized.."

"You know that in real life you two are married, right?" she retorted matter-of-factly.

"…What?! No! I'm with Maya! Maya Roy! We work together! What're you on about?"

"Sam – you're in _1973_, how sane do you think you are?"

"Valid question, I suppose… I'm still just confused. And you're not even real… so I don't know why I'm sitting here talking to you."

"Oh, I'm real, alright." She said, sounding slightly more threatening than before.

"N-No, you're not…" he looked up at her, eyes widened.

She leaned one of her arms on the table, resting her head on her hand.

"Just stuck here, and it's not even my own bloody fantasy."

"Well _poor you_," he said, obviously not serious, "at least you get to leave the place you're in. I'm stuck in this bloody year!"

"Ugh, whatever. Why can't you imagine Gene is here? I'm so bored."

"Well… I don't know. I can't… can I?"

She gave him a look. He blinked at her, then turned away, making weird faces as he tried to will Gene Hunt into existence for about a full minute.

"..I don't think it's working." He concluded eventually.

"I was only joking."

"…Oh." He said, looking at the floor.

"It's not the Disney Channel."

"You're a nasty little piece of work, you."

She shrugged. "Meh."

There was a brief period of silence, broken by Sam.

"Why is it you always show up when I'm sleeping, anyway? I mean," he tugged slightly at the side of his shirt, "I'm not even half dressed! I need my sleep. I'm a bloody copper, Crime to fight and—"

She cut him off, "Oh God, not everything is about you! …I get really bored at night…" she looked at him with an 'are you kidding me'-face. "Yeah, gotta fight those bad guys you imagined. Must be hard."

"It is… And… um… yeah. Save the prostitutes and heroin junkies I imagined, too. It's my imaginary duty, and it takes a lot out of you!"

She gave him a look.

"What?"

"You're boring me." She glanced at her watch, which had seemingly just sprung into existence, "Well, time to stalk Chris in the form of Gene mocking him."

"Wait, that's YOU? What ARE you?"

"…Gene? No, he's yours." She said, getting up from the chair.

"Hold on," he said, getting off his own chair, following her. "What do you mean… are you suggesting that… that he's my fantasy or – oh bloody hell it just keeps sounding more wrong." He mumbled, blushing ever so slightly.

Nearing the television, she rolled her eyes at him quite obviously, and vanished into it.

For a while Sam stood there, looking at the Test Card Girl, back in the television as if she'd never left. He hugged the whiskey bottle to him once more and set it back down on the table.

"Lonely… again… in goddamn 1973… I'm going back to bed."

* * *

Aaand that was it. The silly is over now. Feel free to review. No serious criticism please, if you don't mind - since I did write it on a whim and am aware I put very little effort in it, writing style wise ;).


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